


it's this sunrise

by howdoyousleep



Series: Daddy Steve Rogers/Baby Bucky Barnes [16]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Clothed Sex, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Feels, Feminization, Grumpy Bucky Barnes, Kitchen Sex, M/M, Nipple Play, Patient Steve Rogers, Porn with Feelings, Sassy Bucky Barnes, Sharing Clothes, Size Difference, Top Steve Rogers, but not in this fic lmao, fire safety is important, the pan is fine, the pancake is fine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:21:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23539048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howdoyousleep/pseuds/howdoyousleep
Summary: He knows Bucky being grumpy and sleepy shouldn’t be so goddamn cute but, fuck, it’s the most adorable thing Steve’s ever been witness to.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Daddy Steve Rogers/Baby Bucky Barnes [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1520792
Comments: 56
Kudos: 567





	it's this sunrise

**Author's Note:**

> Someone requested a little domestic fluffy smutty clothes sharing moment and it turned into an entire goddamn fic so here we are.  
> Hope you enjoy!

If there is ever a time when Bucky gets out of bed before Steve it will truly be the end of the world. Aside from maybe Christmas morning and the nights he spends working away on homework or essays, Steve is always the first one out of bed. Even on weekends when the two of them are free to sleep in and wake up at their leisure, Steve is the one waking at an earlier hour, the one out of bed earlier, the one starting his day earlier.  
  
That remains the case on this gorgeous Saturday morning. Steve feels like it’s the first time in months he hasn’t been woken by a call on his day off and he hadn’t realized how nice that was, or had forgotten at least. After kissing Bucky a few times on the forehead and cheek he wanders out of the bedroom in a pair of sweats. He makes some coffee, spends a few minutes going around and opening all of the blinds and curtains (Bucky will hate him but it’s all fine), sips on said coffee and thinks about the things they need to do this weekend.

They need to head to the market for a few items, maybe go out to lunch or dinner, not having gone out in so long. He’s sure Bucky has some homework to do, knows they need to do chores around the house. Maybe they can walk around the city some, leave the car at home.  
  
He’s so wrapped up in his deliciously domestic thoughts when he decides to level up the domesticity and make some pancakes. Bucky loves pancakes. He thinks there are some peaches in the fridge that he could cut up too; Bucky loves peaches. Luckily, they have all the ingredients they need and Steve whips up a batter: eggs, flour, buttermilk, a hint of vanilla. He’s pouring the batter onto the griddle, swaying a little to an Adele song, when in walks Bucky.  
  
“Mornin’, sugar,” he sing-songs, setting the bowl back down on the counter, and he gets a grumble of a huff in response. _Oh,_ so it’s a grumpy Bucky. Steve isn’t surprised; he learned the hard way that he should never force the younger man out of bed before he wanted to face the day. He hears Bucky pour himself some coffee and when he turns to face him his heart isn’t nearly prepared for what he sees.  
  
He knows Bucky being grumpy and sleepy shouldn’t be so goddamn cute but, _fuck,_ it’s the most adorable thing Steve’s ever been witness to. Having showered the night before and just gone to sleep, Bucky’s hair is in all sorts of disarray, his natural curls free to move the way they wish. His cheeks are flushed a rosy color, always running hot when he sleeps but insisting on using a blanket, crease marks pressed into the skin of his face and arms. He’s got that grumpy eyebrow wrinkle probably a preface to the complaint of how bright it is in the house.  
  
The cherry on top is Bucky’s attire. He’s being swallowed up by one of Steve’s old shirts, an old volleyball tournament shirt of his, and it hits Bucky right above the knees, sleeves almost hitting his elbows. It makes him look damn near miniature, much smaller than his actual six-foot size, and Steve’s gut stirs. Bucky doesn’t seem to be wearing anything but briefs either and that… _that’s nice_.

The entire picture Bucky paints makes Steve stir in his sweats, makes him chub up almost immediately. It brings him a sense of pride and ownership and so much fucking love that it almost makes the older man short of breath.  
  
“S’that my shirt you’re wearing?” Steve asks off-handedly as he flips a pancake and Bucky makes a noise in protest, _already,_ mumbles out, “Yeah, so what?” and it makes Steve want to chuckle. Like a feisty kitten this one is.  
  
“Nothin’, baby, nothin’. Just sexy is all,” Steve explains in a low light tone, walking up to Bucky, pressing him back into the counter with a gentle nudge. Bucky huffs again, seems to be full of them this morning, rolls his eyes some, almost goes to push at Steve’s chest before he grabs Bucky’s hand.  
  
“S’not sexy, Steve. I just woke up, shut it,” Bucky protests in a gruff voice, brings the mug up to his mouth to take a sip as Steve brings Bucky’s hand up to his mouth, runs his lips across his knuckles. Bucky wiggles where he stands, a little movement in his toes and in his knees, and Steve’s heart feels like it’s in his throat on his next swallow.  
  
“No, honey I’m for real. Seein’ your sweet little grumpy ass in my clothes is…it’s somethin’ else,” Steve rumbles, pushes Bucky a tad harder into the counter, and the younger makes a feigned offended noise at the description of him. Steve doesn’t want to let Bucky’s hand go, doesn’t want to stop touching him now that he’s started, drops the hand at his mouth to grab at Bucky’s sides instead.  
  
“M’not…I’m not grumpy,” Bucky argues and this time Steve can’t help but let out a low chuckle, chide in response, “You gonna fight me on everything this morning, sweetheart?” Steve squeezes at his hips, runs his hands over the thin fabric of his shirt on Bucky’s body, decides he can get addicted to the way it feels under his grip. This morning might turn out differently than he had originally thought.  
  
“You wanna gimme a kiss?” Steve murmurs, tilting Bucky’s chin up with the touch of two fingers and he’s so physically close to the other man that he can feel the morning moody tension leave Bucky some, yields and moves for Steve without much reservation. The kiss is brief, _so soft_ , a breath of a thing, and all it does is make Steve hungrier, make him grow a little harder in his pants. He knows Bucky can feel it, has to be aware of it, crotch pressed into his lower stomach, his hip, sighs heavily when Steve’s tongue dips against his lip in a tease of a movement.  
  
“Just woke up, Steve come on,” Bucky gasps when he pulls back, Steve’s lips moving gracefully down Bucky’s jaw, nipping and licking as he goes, movements unrushed and syrupy. He grabs for the coffee mug in Bucky’s hands, places it on the counter behind him. With his hands free, Steve is able to move with more freedom, rubs his hands up and down Bucky’s sides, squeezing a little roughly, sliding them down to cup his ass.  
  
“ _Steve_ , the pancakes. M’hungry,” Bucky whines into his mouth and it makes Steve hot all over, that tone of voice Bucky uses when he wants to put up a fight just so it seems like he isn’t being easy. Steve just hums in response, squeezes his fingers firmly around the handfuls of ass he’s got in his palms, movement making Bucky whimper and clutch at Steve’s chest.  
  
“I’m hungry too, Buck,” he purrs into his mouth, squeezes and pulls Bucky up until the younger realizes to jump a little, delightfully moving without any physical resistance, and Steve hauls him up onto the counter.  
  
“That was awful, Steve oh my god.” Steve nips at Bucky’s ear.  
  
“It’s true though. Was hungry for pancakes before you came out here lookin’ all sweet in my own goddamn clothes. _God, baby_ what you do to me…” Steve’s voice is low, hands still moving and squeezing wherever he can, soaking in all the little noises and breaths Bucky lets out. He loves Daddy’s hands on his body, Steve knows this, that he can get a little overwhelmed by it even, such a sensitive littler thing. Seeing Bucky in his clothes is doing things to Steve, a number of different things, but something he couldn’t have anticipated was Bucky appearing so small.  
  
Bucky isn’t a physically small man, is above average in height, but he is smaller than Steve, the older man being even more above average in overall size. Bucky in his oversized shirt, draping off his shoulders a tad, grazing the tops of his thighs, makes him look so little, makes his physical appearance show the side of him that only Daddy gets to see, show the true sweet boy he is for Steve.  
  
It makes Steve want to go feral.  
  
It also makes his next squeeze a little harsh, makes his next kiss a little deeper, makes Bucky’s hands clutch for purchase at Steve’s torso, his chest.   
  
“I thought I was the one who was supposed to have the high sex drive as the younger one in this relationship. Sometimes this verges on ridiculous, Steve,” Bucky taunts a little breathlessly, nips at Steve’s chin when he gets the chance. _What a brat.  
_  
“Can’t help myself. And you’ve got some nerve complaining about how often you get fucked.” Steve nibbles at Bucky’s bottom lip in retaliation, his hands coming to rest on the smaller’s hips where he sits on the counter. For once, Bucky has nothing to say in response and that’s a goddamn miracle; Steve wants to mark the date on the calendar.  
  
He feels Bucky’s feet curl around the back of his knees, his arms coming up to also wrap around Steve’s torso, and it makes him want to purr like a goddamn cat. He pulls Steve in tight enough and it makes the older man’s erection entirely too obvious to ignore, his tented sweats rubbing a little lewdly against Bucky’s stomach, his own growing erection. Bucky feels it, the same time Steve does and lets out a loud exhale, he makes a warm noise, a purr of a thing right into Steve’s lips.  
  
“ _Daddy…_ ” he coos, grins when Steve’s mouth drops open, gives his lips a few far too sensual kisses for someone who was grumbling about sex seconds before, “Is that all for me?” Steve might melt right through the goddamn floor.  
  
“A’course it is, kitten. What are you gonna do about it?” Steve asks, gives Bucky a few more filthy kisses, not bothering to close his eyes, not _wanting_ to close his eyes. He bears witness to yet another adorable blush, one that makes Steve’s gut curl, loves how transparent Bucky is. Steve calls him a lot of things, _too many things,_ but Bucky seems to be a sucker for “kitten”, being up there with “sugar” and “princess”. There’s a shift Steve can see in Bucky’s eyes, feel in his grip, one that has his dick perking up even more, the gleam in Bucky’s eyes having a mischievous edge to it.   
  
“Bet I won’t need much prep because of last night…” is what he ends up whispering, attempting to make it sound casual but failing, his suggestion ending a little too breathlessly. Steve is pulling at the waistband of his sweats without wasting another second, his eagerness making Bucky giggle some more. Steve wants to eat him alive.  
  
At just the mention of being inside of Bucky, Steve’s heartrate notches up, his hands twitch at the urge to pull him closer, his dick aches and throbs. He’s reaching for a drawer that he knows has to have a tiny bottle of lube shoved in the back, always prepared, and with success he finds it and tosses it onto the counter. When Bucky sees it, he huffs, _Steve needs to do something with that mouth,_ mumbles, “ _Ridiculous_ ,” as he hops off the counter. He begins to turn but Steve grabs his hips and turns him the rest of the way around by force.  
  
“Turnin’ into the Boy Who Cried Wolf, sweetheart. Pissy about how prepared I am and how often you get dicked down, but you’re damn near gagging for it, aren’t ya?” Steve murmurs into his ear, hand reaching around to cup the stiff erection contained in his briefs, Bucky gasping at the contact. Steve rolls the younger’s package around in his hand, squeezes and tugs on what he can, kisses at Bucky’s cheek as he lets out a low moan.  
  
“Just a spoiled fuckin’ brat is what you are,” Steve continues to taunt in a light tone, voice low as he moves to slowly peel Bucky’s briefs down his lithe thighs, dropping to pool around his ankles. Bucky goes to take his shirt off, but he stops him, whispers, “ _No—keep it on_ ,”, his hand running up and under the shirt, up the soft skin of Bucky’s stomach. Bucky nods his head, exhaling shakily.  
  
There’s something about a weekend morning fuck that digs deep into Steve’s bones. The unhurried pace, no place to be and no rush, the serene quietness that fills the house and the neighborhood. There’s something about greeting the day and your partner in such an intimate way, almost ethereal, movements slow and savory, simply _feeling_ the other person and the way they make you feel, the reactions to the way you make them feel. Steve loves it, _needs it_ , can never get enough of it when it comes to Bucky, kisses him on the back of the neck as he wets a few fingers with lube, lifts _his own shirt on Bucky’s body_ , and—  
  
“ _Oh_ ,” Bucky sighs and Steve feels that noise in his core, in his center, that noise like Bucky is finally right because Steve is inside of him, like he isn’t whole until Steve is there pressing within. He can’t think to say anything, his tongue heavy in his mouth, just kisses the piece of Bucky’s shoulder that peeks out of the coverage of his shirt. His finger is met with not near as much resistance as it normally is, Steve able to press in with another finger within a few pumps of the first. This second one makes Bucky gasp a little, makes him whine, and it’s so goddamn beautiful to Steve’s ears that he can’t help but make a pleased noise of his own, a little sympathetic moan that he lets out into the skin behind Bucky’s ear.  
  
“ _Daddy_ …” Steve’s gut clenches.  
  
“Yeah, sugar s’feel good?”  
  
“ _Ngh,_ I…gimme a-another. Please?” Their voices are so low, hushed for no reason but it simply being that morning kind of vibe. Bucky’s eager, a little too, and Steve pumps his fingers a few times, curls them a little bit, finds that sweet little spot they’re both looking for, force of it making Bucky fall forward some, brace his hands on the edge od the counter.  
  
“Just greedy, baby. There’s no rush,” he whispers, his other hand coming around to give its best attempt at jacking Bucky off slowly. Bucky lets out such a long and low moan Steve swears he can feel it in his own teeth.  
  
“ _Fuck_ , Steve holy _shit_ , feels so good,” Bucky whimpers with another moan, head falling back some which gives Steve easy access to run his lips along the line of Bucky’s neck.  
  
“So sensitive in the morning aren’t you, Bucky? Sensitive all the time but in the mornings especially, always have been.” Bucky has nothing to say in response to that, just bites his bottom lip and arches his neck into Steve’s mouth some, clenches down on Daddy’s fingers.  
  
“Alright, alright _hush_ , sugar.”  
  
Steve gives Bucky the third finger he wants, pumps his other hand around the brunette’s cock and if he wasn’t right before, he’s right now—Bucky is damn near gagging for it. The third finger gives him the pressure and the fullness he craves, gives him the closest thing he can get to Daddy’s cock, makes his mouth drop open some and Steve can’t help but kiss and coo on Bucky’s cheek. His movements are deep and slow and delicious and he can only fathom to work his fingers a few more times, in and out, before removing them and smearing what is left of the lube onto his cock.  
  
Steve is moaning before he’s even entirely slid inside of Bucky, can’t help it when he’s so wrapped up in the feeling of the younger man in his arms, of how hot and wet he is around Daddy’s cock, of how pretty he sounds when Steve slides home. An arm around Bucky’s waist, one tucked under and arm and across his chest, it’s achingly intimate, _so close,_ perfect for a slow morning fuck. Bucky arches back into him beautifully, feels so good against the line of Steve’s body, feels so small, just the way he looks in Daddy’s shirt.  
  
“ _Ohh_ , fuck that’s nice, baby so nice,” he coos gently into Bucky’s ear as his crotch comes to press snug up against Bucky’s bottom, that sweet little cushion that in engrained in Steve’s brain for the rest of time. Bucky gives him a weak moan in response, a few heavy exhales to follow, lets his neck go a little lax as it rolls back into Steve’s shoulder. He knows Bucky wants to grab onto something, knows he likes to hold and feel grounded, so Steve grabs his hands, presses them into the counter in front of them.  
  
Bucky’s a gift, a treasure, no other way to describe him when at a loss for words like this. His body was made for Steve, he’d bet his life and soul on it, has never felt anything like being inside of Bucky. He fits so perfectly against Steve’s body, so soft and supple against his harder and muscled one, feels sublime all around his cock, all warm and tight as sin. He rolls his hips in tight, slow, little movements, grinds and presses in balls-deep, Bucky whimpering softly at the feel.  
  
Steve takes it slow, let’s the feel of the morning take them away, lets the music in the background unintentionally sway his movements. He pulls out slowly, presses those hot open-mouthed kisses he knows make Bucky weak all along his neck, up to his ear, wraps an arm back tight around Bucky’s middle.  
  
“Oh _shit_ ,” is all he can choke out in response to Steve’s movements and that’s totally okay with Steve, is acceptable, presses back in just as slow and _fuck_ that’s nice, that’s beautiful. He does this a few more times, keeps his mouth close to Bucky’s face, keeps the line of his body pressed in tight, movement only being in his hips. He feels like he’s high, like he’s hypnotized, is only pulled from his mind when Bucky whimpers, “ _More,_ Daddy more,” and he nods his head, brings his arm up to curl his hand loosely around the base of Bucky’s throat.  
  
“Yeah, baby yeah, of course,” he coos out, picks up his pace and pumps his hips a little harder, movement making Bucky lock his elbows for more support, forcing the two of them let out little noises of their own.  
  
“Always feel so fuckin’ good for Daddy don’t you, sugar? Yeah? So fuckin’ ready, so fuckin’ hungry aren’t you?”  
  
“ _God,_ Daddy. Shouldn’t feel so good but it does. Why… _fuck_ , why does it feel so good _all the fucking time?_ ”  
  
Good fucking question.  
  
Like almost every other attempt at talking this morning, Steve isn’t sure what to say back, feels like that’s more of a rhetorical question when he can’t think of a valid answer to begin with. Instead he continues to fuck into Bucky’s body, the body that feels so small in his hands, pumps his hips harder and deeper than before. The little noises that seem to be inadvertently let out by Bucky are so fragile, so full of emotion, so delicate that it makes his grip on the younger man a little tighter, wants to ensure he’s safe and protected.  
  
Bucky moves to arch his back, a small movements with a large payoff, lets out a high-pitched whine after a heave of a gasp that Steve feels under his palm. He knows what that gasp means, knows what that change of angle has to be doing for him and it makes him want to do it more, makes him want to hit Bucky’s sweet spot over and over again, wants to send him soaring. He winds his other arm tight around Bucky’s slim waist, under his shirt, keeps the other hand curled about his neck, and Bucky _sobs,_ that little overwhelmed noise.  
  
“ _Steve_ ,” he mewls and _fuck_ he loves that, loves how Bucky sounds saying his name, it making him fuck harder, deeper. He purses his lips at the hinge of Bucky’s jaw.  
  
“Yeah, sugar,” he breathes, not really a question but an acknowledgement, lets himself groan heartily on the next exhale.  
  
“I’m gonna come.” It makes Steve groan again, makes him thrust harder, the slow pointed sound of skin slapping skin merging with the noises of a Saturday morning. He isn’t surprised it’s taken such a short amount of time for Bucky to reach the point of climax; he’s such a sensitive thing when he wakes up.  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“ _Uh-huh_ , yeah, you’re gonna make me… _god,_ gonna make me come, Daddy.”  
  
_Fuck yeah._  
  
Steve might say it out loud, he isn’t quite sure, but he is damn sure his vision and focus narrow in on those words, make it all Steve wants, wants Bucky’s pleasure more than his own quickly approaching orgasm. The hand under his shirt ( _still swallowing up Bucky’s body, fuck)_ reaches up, finds one of those perfect little nipples, pinches it softly at first, then with a little more bite to it. The younger lets out his loudest noise this morning, a shout of a moan, _so good._ Bucky _loves_ having his nipples played with, always has. It makes his knees buckle a little which then has Steve holding onto him as Bucky’s hands come up to grab onto Daddy’s head, hands in his hair.   
  
“ _Yes,_ god j-just…uh-huh, _yeah_ ,” Bucky cries, finally passed the point of formulating words. Steve turns, sucks Bucky’s earlobe into his mouth, lets out a hearty groan at the feeling of hands in his hair, of that little bit of pain of Bucky getting carried away and not realizing it. He moves his fingers to the other nipple, twists the first before he leaves, gives the second the same treatment. His eyelids drop, a side effect of Bucky’s sweet little cunt eating him up, trying to keep him inside, so _tight_ and so goddamn good.  
  
“You want me to touch that pretty cock? You want Daddy’s help, baby?” The way his own voice sounds to his ears makes him realize he’s close himself, a little frantic and a lot breathy. Bucky makes a pitiful noise, shakes his head and lets out another hefty moan, much louder than the last. The hands in Steve’s hair go taut, he hears a tiny, “No, I-I’m gonna come, _oh Daddy_ , I’m gonna _—”_  
  
He feels it before anything else, feels that clench on his cock, feels that heave expand Bucky’s chest beneath his grip. He fucks in a little deeper, jars Bucky’s body forward with the force, grinds in tight on that perfect angle and Bucky’s coming and it’s so _beautiful_ , always is. His little legs tremble at the force of his climax, said tremble running up his torso, and Steve can _feel_ it, that’s his favorite part—when he can _feel_ Bucky’s orgasm.  
  
His voice is so low, feeling so much, he bites out every syllable onto the side of Bucky’s slack face.  
  
“ _Fuck,_ sugar that’s so pretty, look at that, _god_ you’re gonna make me come, that sweet little cunt squeezin’ and milkin’ me, _oh shit_ —”  
  
He can’t hold Bucky close enough when his orgasm quite literally crashes through his body. It’s low and tight and he feels it _everywhere_ , makes him dip his knees a little and take Bucky with him only to press back up firmly, lean forward and put a hand on the counter to hold them both up. His own torso trembles alongside Bucky’s, just like his own noises of pleasure are spouted from his mouth, groans mixing with whimpers.  
  
It’s the perfect way to start a morning.  
  
Steve finds his nose digging into Bucky’s hair, breathing him in, snuggling the other man there on his feet. Bucky reaches forward with both of his hands, takes them out of Steve’s hair and moves to place one of his smaller hands on top of Steve’s own. He can’t stop looking at it, the gesture, the two of them together, intertwined in a plethora of ways, but so very easily. It’s so easy loving this man.  
  
An uncomfortable grumble rips Steve out of his thoughts.  
  
“Don’t tell me you’re already grumblin’, Buck.”  
  
“No, _no,”_ he starts to chuckle, moves his head in the movement to look down, “This just isn’t how I pictured this morning going. It’s…it’s nice.” Steve purrs, squeezes his arm tight around Bucky’s waist, kisses him loudly on the cheek.  
  
“ _Mmm,_ is nice. Too bad breakfast is ruined.” Steve has been smelling the burnt pancake for quite some time now, is honestly concerned about whether or not his smoke alarms work.  
  
“How about we go back to bed since you wore me out and then we go to lunch?” Steve smirks. What else are weekends for?  
  
“Sounds like a plan, sugar bear.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on Tumblr! "howdoyousleep3"! Leave me comments because I thrive and survive on your feedback. Love you dearly!  
> Edit: Y'all-the pan is fine. The pancake is not but it's all okay lmao. Don't trip.


End file.
